


and maybe he was the moon

by songs



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, set during their stay on Whale Island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songs/pseuds/songs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Are you sure you're not made of magic?</p>
            </blockquote>





	and maybe he was the moon

“You know, Killua,” Gon says, biting into his fish. “You’re really smart!”

Killua  _feels_ the flush paint over his skin. Disbelievingly, he coughs into his hand, managing to conceal his embarrassment with a bark of: “Don’t say such weird things. And  _don’t_ talk with your mouth full, idiot!”

“But you  _are_ ,” Gon presses, his voice all songlike. He clearly pays  _no_ attention to anything Killua has to say on the matter, because he goes on, still chewing as he speaks, “Before you came to Whale Island, you said you’d never gone fishing or lit a fire before! But now you’re almost as good as me!”

Killua has to look away from the other boy, after that. Face scarlet, he drops his gaze to his hands, a heady sort of feeling overtaking him. Like he’s just stepped out of his bones and body, like he’s nothing more or less than Gon’s summery words and the island’s warm starlight.

But all he can say in return is, “Almost? Are you sure you’re not giving yourself too much credit?”

“Mm, maybe.” Gon gives a good-natured laugh and just like that, Killua is looking up at him again, studying him against the map of moon and campfire light. When Gon finishes eating, he leans back on his hands, his eyes all glimmery when he muses:

“I really mean it, y’know. Before you got up this morning, I was talking to Aunt Mito about how when I first met you, I really thought you were magic.”

Killua actually, truly, physically  _chokes._ On a mixture of night-air and honest-to-goodness  _embarrassment._ Killua glances to Gon and truly wonders if he went through an entire childhood of torture and training and murder only to die _here_ —on this peaceful, blue-green dream of an island, with this  _terrifying_ boy as culprit.

And Gon— _the jerk!_ —doesn’t even ask if he’s alright. He just smiles all knowingly and says, “I thought so ‘cause you could make your nails into claws, and one time you made it so it looked like there were—” Gon spreads out his fairy-thin arms. “— _this_ many Killua’s! And your hair is sorta like stars and not a lot of people look like that. So I thought maybe you came from a storybook or something like that.”

Killua just  _stares. What was this guy’s deal_? His angle? Killua has dealt with countless people before, but never someone like Gon. He almost says,  _we both know where I came from,_ but the way Gon is  _looking_ at him, like maybe he  _does_ see stars instead of some fucked up, shadow of a kid makes Killua ache from somewhere deep.

He tries to scoff, but it comes out a murmur: “It’d be a story where people kill people. And there’d… be lots of blood.”

Killua’s eyes trickle to his hands, and then back to Gon again. He looks pensive, thoughtful, before he says, brightly:

“Water.”

Taken aback, Killua manages, “Huh?”

“To wash away all the blood,” Gon explains, like it’s all that simple, “all you need is some time and some water.”

Killua’s mouth goes slack, his body still. And that is the moment when he realizes that Gon terrifies him. Gon is  _terrifying._ Killua feels his heart creep up into his throat, close to where his voice is trapped. And in his voice he can only find one word, one name, and it is:

“Gon…”

Gon can undo him. Gon  _has_ undone him.

And Killua –-

“Yeah?” Gon replies, beaming.

—is okay with that.

“I… I just…”  _Thank you,_ he does not say,  _Thank you thank you thank you thank you_ — “I’m kind of tired.”

Gon asks, excitedly, “You wanna sleep here? In the forest?”

Killua feels his heart settle back into place. “Did you bring any sleeping bags?”

“Er…” The other boy gives a sheepish look. “I only was able to find one… but, um, you can have it—”

“Let’s just share,” Killua blurts, his eyes widening the second he realizes he’s spoken aloud. “I…um…well. I  _mean_ …”

“Okay.” For a moment, Killua thinks Gon is going to crawl towards his pack to open it, to get the sleeping bag, to do  _something_ —but then he moves towards  _him,_ not stopping until he is leaning in close,“Say, Killua…”

 _Why is he so close?_   “What is it  _now,_  moron—”

“Are you sure you’re not magic?” Killua catches the twirl of Gon’s lashes as he blinks. “Your eyes’re kind of like… little moons. Blue moons.”

_He really is going to kill me._

_“_ I’m  _positive_ —” Killua manages, through gritted teeth, trying and failing to shift away from Gon.  _He’s_  probably the magic one. Killua feels like he’s under some sort of spell. “—that I’m not. And moons are dumb. They’re just reflected light.”

Gon leans away. “But people still think the moon’s beautiful.”

They both go silent, after that. They do not move from where they sit—only scattered breaths apart. It’s as if an unspoken, unseen line has been forged, or maybe crossed. Killua doesn’t really know. Maybe Gon’s right—maybe he is pretty smart.

But there are still a lot of things he doesn’t know.

Gon lets out a quiet laugh then, shifting slightly, but still within the realm of reach.

“I’m not really tired, anymore,” he says.

Killua— _bravely, or stupidly, he will find out soon_ —moves his fingertips so that they brush along the bones of Gon’s hand.

“…Me neither.”


End file.
